Luck, Fate or Just a Speckled Ball?
by Mako-chan Wolf
Summary: Methos tries not to attract attention, ends up with ten tickets to a concert he probably won't attend, and comes pretty close to being found out.


Title: Luck, Fate or Just a Speckled Ball?  
  
Author: Mako-chan Wolf  
  
Summary: Methos tries to be inconspicuous, ends up with tickets to a concert he probably won't even attend, and comes closer to being "found out" than he'll ever know.  
  
Setting: Uh... present-day, after the end of the series if you're like me and say Richie never died... otherwise, before Richie died (just because of a reference to him).  
  
Author's Babbling: Yeah, I got bored again while listening to the radio -- here's another one of those things that just seems to happen... Look for me and my friend; I actually put myself and Meli-chan626 into this story (not under pen names, of course; it's not like my mom calls us Mako and Meli)!  
  
Feedback: Please? No evil non-reviewers, okay?  
  
On to the story now...  
  
Adam Pierson, A.K.A. Methos, stood in the middle of the parking lot, trying to avoid stepping on someone else's foot every time he moved. Crowds really weren't his element... good for getting lost in but not much else.  
  
For what must have been the fiftieth time, he looked up at the sign proclaiming in red and black letters: XTU Ticket Run -- Sunday at Noon! He glanced down at the blue raffle ticket in his hand and then up at the red, orange, and black booth with "92.5 WXTU 20th Anniversary" printed all over it.  
  
"Why am I even here? I don't even like country music..." he thought aloud.  
  
Truth was, Adam Pierson had taken a little time off from his normal life in Seacouver and ended up in small-town Browns Mills, New Jersey. Seemed like the whole town was there, crammed into the Rita's Water Ice parking lot at the XTU ticket run, so, trying to be inconspicuous, he had joined the crowd.  
  
That proved to be a bad idea. Everybody asked, "Are you new in town?" or said "I don't think I've seen you around before," or had to know how long he had been in the area.  
  
Two teenage girls (probably no older than 14), one with gray eyes and wavy brown hair, wearing a black and orange tee-shirt and jeans, the other with brown eyes behind oval-shaped glasses and curly dark hair, wearing an "XTU: 17 Years as Philadelphia's Best Country Station!" tee shirt and denim shorts, even tried to start a conversation. The one with the glasses asked how long he'd been listening to the station. When he replied, "Not long; I'm really not very fond of country music..." the other one piped up.  
  
With a barely noticeable southern accent, she said, "Country music is one of those things you don't immediately like. It grows on you over time." She laughed. "I just wish David would believe that..." she muttered, most likely more to herself than anyone else.  
  
Then a blonde-haired lady - who was more than likely their mother - called, "Melanie! Lily! Come here and watch the little one for a minute!" The one wearing black ran off immediately, but the one in the "17th Anniversary" shirt paused long enough to say goodbye, then sprinted off after her sister.  
  
The lady in the booth, Leigh Richards (who was apparently a DJ for the radio station), had been calling numbers. She spoke loudly enough to be heard without the microphone, which was good since the "stupid plastic piece of junk" had been "on the fritz" all day. She stopped to review the rules. "Okay, those of you who have been here for a while are probably tired of hearing me repeat the rules, but there are some new people who might not know how ticket runs work. So, here's the scoop..."  
  
She sounds like a reporter, Adam thought.  
  
"...I call a number. If it's the number you have on your blue raffle ticket - and if you don't have a blue ticket, come over here to Joey, he'll give you one - but if it's your number, make some noise so we now you're here. When we call your number - and we wil call everyone - you come over here to my right and pull a ball out of this box." She pointed, then resumed her little rules speech. "No peeking, okay? There are three different-colored balls in this box, all the same size and weight, and you're going to give the box a shake, close your eyes, and pick one. And if you're wearing long sleeves - why you'd want to in this weather, I don't know - we're going to ask you to roll them up. If you pull out the white ball, you get a pair of lawn seats. If you pull the orange ball, you get reserve seats by the stage. And if you're lucky and choose the speckled ball, you get party seats! Ten, count 'em, ten lawn tickets!"  
  
Someone behind Adam commented, "Wow. Five ticket runs worth in one shot..."  
  
Leigh continued, "Now back I go to calling the numbers! 437!"  
  
Someone cried, "Yeah!"  
  
"351!"  
  
A girl on the edge of the lot whooped.  
  
"131!"  
  
A man about twenty feet from the booth shouted.  
  
"443!"  
  
_That_ number sounded familiar... Adam glanced quickly down at his ticket and saw the same number. He yelled and jogged up to the booth, joined the line and watched as the three people who had been called before him walked away with reserve seats, lawn seats, and lawn seats, respectively. While he had been waiting, Leigh had interviewed the three people before him and called more numbers, so the line was re-forming behind him. Now it was his turn. He gave the box a quick shake, put his hand in an pulled out... _the speckled ball?!  
_  
Leigh held out the microphone and asked his name.  
  
"Adam," he said quietly, still in relative shock.  
  
"Well, Adam, you just got party seats! Who are you gonna take with you to the 20th Anniversary Show?"  
  
"I have not the slightest clue."  
  
She laughed. "Well find a bunch of friends, 'cause you need nine more people!" She handed the microphone to a lady on her left and said, "By the way, love the accent."  
  
The two teenagers from before had had their numbers called after his. As he turned to walk away, the one with the glasses said, "Congrats! You'll have a great time -- everybody knows the best parties are at the tailgates before the bash and on the lawn!"  
  
The other continued the thought. "Good luck finding some people to take with you; maybe we'll see you at the concert!"  
  
Adam half-smiled and said, "Maybe," then walked away. As he left, he wondered if he could get Joe, Richie, Mac, Amanda, and five others to come all the way from Seacouver just for a concert...  
  
When they estimated he was out of hearing range, they started a conversation between themselves.  
  
Lily, the one with the glasses, asked, "Was it just me, or did he look like Methos?"  
  
Melanie replied, "I thought he looked like Methos, too. He's got the accent and all."  
  
They were both thinking, Could he be...? and at the same time, said "Nah!"   
  
Karen, Lily's mom, just sighed and shook her head. "Those two get stranger and stranger every day... But he _did_ look a lot like Peter Wingfield." 


End file.
